


Gravity

by Bubblekilt



Series: Horizon [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Chronic Illness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblekilt/pseuds/Bubblekilt
Summary: After the examination where they tell him he's only got a few years left, Shiro just…breaks.  Adam is there to catch some of the fallout, but there's only so much he can do.A pre-Kerberos ficlet.





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, time for some emotional payoff with these two. Am I salty? Yes. Will I use this to my advantage? You betcha. ;)

  Adam finds him in the training room, practically punching a hole through one of the heavy bags. The status indicator on his wrist is beeping steadily, a half step away from something that was going to warrant a trip to the infirmary, but Shiro wouldn't _stop_ long enough to listen. 

  He’s breathing through his teeth, broken gasps that damn near break Adam's heart.  There’s no way Shiro doesn’t know he’s here—there’s a running joke about how loud the door seals are in this building—but Adam stands at the threshold for an extra minute, unsure of what to say.

  Shiro wouldn't look at him. 

  He just keeps slamming his fists into the bag, knuckles glancing off so sharply that thin streaks of blood are welling up.  Shiro hadn't even bothered to wrap his hands, despite the fact that he'd probably been in here for hours.  Even from the doorway Adam sees his muscles trembling, the indicator light on his electro-stimulator a brilliant yellow.  A few steps away from critical.

  "Takashi, look at me."

  There's no indication that he's heard, just a sloppy switch in stance as Shiro's shoulders hunch and he batters in to the side of the bag with fresh ferocity.  He won't turn around.

  Adam steps forward as the electro-stimulator starts to flash orange, proof that he's been in here long enough to fuck himself up.  He's not going to be any happier tomorrow, even if Adam manages to pull him away.  He's overworking and he knows it, but Adam has never seen him so determined to ignore the beep of the status warning.

  "Babe, please."

  The punches don't slow, and the orange light is starting to deepen to red already. 

  "Takashi, _stop."_ Adam rushes forward to seize one of Shiro's fists, wincing at the pained hiss Shiro spits out from the burn of his skinned knuckles.  His hands are wrecked, upon closer inspection.

  Then again, so is Shiro.

  He hadn't turned around, so this is the first time Adam can see the angry red splotches on his cheeks.  He won't look Adam in the eyes but it's clear he's been trying to keep from crying himself ragged.  His eyes are bloodshot, and his teeth are chattering a little as he stares.  He looks sort of detached from his body, taking no notice of the angry scratches on his knuckles or the way Adam pulls him closer. 

  Despite three years of dating and countless hospital stays, despite practically being engaged, Adam has never seen him like this.  Not once.

  And honestly?  It's scaring the shit out of him.

  He reaches up and scoops Shiro's chin gently with one hand.  "Hey."

  He's trying not to talk too loud—if he does Shiro might honestly bolt for the foothills.  For now, all he can manage is a rough breath out, avoiding Adam's eyes.

  God, he sounds like he's been gargling nails.

  Adam already knows about the test results, knows that the doctors have run out of options.  And he hates it, he absolutely _hates_ it, but Shiro looks just about ready to put himself out of his own misery.

  "Takashi."  It's one word, barely a whisper, but Shiro squeezes his eyes shut like Adam had screamed in his face.  His shoulders hitch like he has hiccups, jumping once, twice, under the strain of holding back.  Adam bites at the inside of his lip, his brain flickering through words faster than he can say them. 

  He couldn't say it was okay.  It _wasn't._ It wasn't okay or fair or something that would pass.  Shiro would pass before this did, and Adam's own thoughts punch him in the gut right then and there.  He holds back the need to lose himself completely, instead placing a hand gently on the jumping muscles in Shiro's arm and saying the only thing he can think of.   "Takashi, I'm right here."

  Adam barely has time to get his arms around Shiro before he crumples forward onto Adam's shoulder.  It's too much weight to bear without a chair beneath him, but Adam is careful as he guides them both down to the floor.  The training deck is empty, absolutely deserted before the pre-breakfast rush of professors and early birds.  In the absence of anyone except the cleaning staff, Adam figures they're alone enough to safely collapse.  He's biting back tears of his own as he rests his chin on top of Takashi's head, arms tight around his boyfriend's sides as he heaves out wet breaths.  There are tears dripping down Adam's collar and a fist clutched into the front of his uniform.  His pins are stabbing him in the chest, and they have to be digging into Shiro's hands, but he'd rather start bleeding then tear himself away from Takashi right now.

  It's all he can do to murmur quietly in his boyfriend's ear and smooth his hair back as Shiro buries himself in Adam's chest.  He's still shaking so bad, and breathing in a way that has to be exhausting for his system.  He's going to need medication tonight.  A massage, if he didn't shy away from it.  This would set them back, for sure.  Shiro had a tendency to retreat after things like this—the year they told him advancements weren't moving fast enough to get a cure within his lifetime, Adam hadn't seen him for a week.

  He wanted to strangle the doctor that had dropped the news, ask him what the hell he'd been thinking to just let Takashi walk away after something like that.  Alone. 

  Alone and absolutely, pants-shittingly terrified of what was coming next. 

  If Adam was having trouble breathing, it wasn't because of the weight on his chest.

  Crumpled on a floor mat that still reeked, damp with lemon-scented cleaner and who knew what else, Adam held Takashi as tight as he could and ignored the way his own eyes were threatening to spill over.  He ignored the burn in his chest and focused on maintaining a gentle rock, waiting for the moment that Shiro would wear himself out and they could drag themselves back to the apartment. 

  Tonight was going to be hard.  Tomorrow would be harder.

  They wouldn't be able to touch, most likely, Shiro hyper-sensitive from overwork and still too angry to do anything but hide.  For now, though, Adam clutched him close like he was the last thing left in the universe, like he was something that was about to disappear. 

  It was greedy and selfish and stupid, but there was this silly hope: if he held on hard enough, maybe he wouldn't have to let go.

  Sure, the Garrison was still standing after dust storms and drills and the onslaught of Iverson's daily rants.  However, if you were standing in that hospital-bright gym, surrounded by dumbbells in a circle of punching bags, you would see two boys clinging to each other like the world was about to end.  Eyes shut tight against the steady flash of the orange light projected on to the floor beside them.  The world was slipping out between his fingers, but Adam was going to hold on to this for as long as he could.

  He stroked back Takashi's hair with his eyes shut tight against the glare of the lights above, and when Shiro's whole body seized up against his he couldn't hold it back any longer.

  Tomorrow there would be discussions and pills and appointments, news and explanations that neither of them really wanted to hear, but right now their carefully constructed corner of the universe was collapsing around their ears.

  Face pressed into his boyfriend's sweat-soaked bangs, too high up for Shiro to see, Adam figured he had permission to cry, too.

 


End file.
